Dear Myspace

Dear Myspace,

I'm sorry to say that I think it's over. I've left you for another social network. Stop crying; it's okay. Your heart will go on. And on. You see, lately I've forgotten to come and visit you. I just don't even think about you anymore. My other social network has fulfilled me in ways you never could. It's a network where the cool kids hang. You know, the ones that like the fact that they are no longer in junior high?

I just couldn't take your large graphics, constant surveys on who I "have a crush on", gaudy sparklies, and, well, your Tom anymore. It's just not my bag, baby. What? You think this is sudden? Oh, honey, it's been a long time coming. You're just dense, Myspace. Dense or deaf. My maniacal screams through the monitor were not getting through that thick skull of yours. Or was it the awful, automatically playing music keeping my pleas from reaching your ears? I know how to push a play button, Myspace. Don't patronize me.

I just don't find you mentally stimulating anymore. Actually, I never did. I faked it. Pretending to enjoy my time with you, I tried leaving comments and picking mildly classy layouts. But I was never really into it. The entire time I was daydreaming about a day when I could enjoy social networking again. Well, my time has come.

Sorry, Myspace. I'm leaving you for Facebook. Yes, Facebook. You read that right. Where grownups go to interact with their weird international friends who add extra vowels where vowels are not needed. Where we create secret groups and spend entirely too much time debating the fine nuances of items such as knitted baby hats. Where we are free to post strange status updates voicing our random mindless drivel and comment on them, endlessly chatting about the intricacies of the finer things in life such as toe hair, wall hangy thingies from Michaels, and chocolate. But not together. Because that doesn't even make sense. But I digress. Stop distracting me; that's not helping your case.

My point, Myspace: it's over. We're through. Kaput. I am no longer one of your peeps. I've grown up and branched out and have no more use for you. So please stop sending me emails from people I do not know who think I'm hot and want to be my friend. I'm really not that cool. They just think I am. But hey, I kind of think I am too, which is why I must call us quits.

Goodbye, Myspace. Goodbye.

(Or: "See ya, wouldn't wanna be ya!")

(But no, I'm much too classy for that kind of talk.)

(See what kind of bad influence you are? Shame on you, Myspace. Shame.)

Sincerely,
Crystal